


Goodnight

by hxdes



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 06:16:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5237525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hxdes/pseuds/hxdes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite his loudly advocated contempt for mobile phones, Ronan Lynch kept one that was used strictly for emergency purposes. In his contacts list were the following names; Gansey, Jane, Declan, Matthew, K, and Adam. And every night, strictly for emergency purposes, he found himself on the end of an inexplicably long phone call with a certain Adam Parrish. For the second night in a row the time reaches 1am, and despite both boys bleeding exhaustion from every pour, a suggestion is made that Ronan should come over. And once it's said, both boys will learn that from there, there is no turning back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goodnight

**Author's Note:**

> As a wise fanfiction author once said, I'm going to fling this online with my eyes squeezed tight and soon after pretend it doesn't exist.

    "Goodnight." Adam breathed. The sound echoed through the microphone and all the way to Monmouth Manufacturing, where it slipped into the ears of one Ronan Lynch.  
  
   "Yeah. 'Night." Ronan breathed back . His eyes rolled back into his head as he allowed his eyes shut after a long day. It was usually Adam who could barely keep his eyes open throughout the day, due to late nights and early mornings filled with work and study and more work. But recently, Ronan's dreams had been restless. Well, more than usual. The curve of a lip, the digging of nails into skin. Soundless gasps and endless grasping at a full head of hair; it had come to the point where he would wake up with loose strands still held tight between his fingertips, pulled from his deepest shame.  
  
   Now, Ronan's fingers were millimetres from the screen of his phone, a phone which he told anyone within speaking distance that he abhorred, yet never failed to keep close with hopes of getting a certain call. He had the power to dream things into being; hoping phone calls into happening didn't seem so farfetched. The screen read the time 00:49:15, and the End Call button was as bright and brimming as ever. Ronan tried to recall what they had talked about for 49 minutes without success, instead thinking about how he didn't want the call to end. Memories of fingertips moving against the skin of his back surfaced in a rush, as did the fact that every night, it ended with the same thing.  
  
   He never ceased to wake up seconds before he could taste the inside of Adam's mouth.  
  
   00:50:42.  
  
   They had spent at least two minutes now in silence, the only sound being their dry throats swallowing and jagged breaths unsteady as they both became hyperaware of how loud their own bodily movements were becoming. A rustle of the duvet as they shifted uncomfortably. The snap of their pants against their waists as they readjusted. Another swallow.   
  
   Restless nights weren't the only reason Ronan was particularly tired that day. At 5am that morning he had woken up, or rather fell to the floor, and arrived at Adam's unshowered and unshaven to drive him to work that day; Adam's car had broken down for the fifth time and Adam had mentioned during their phone call the previous night that he would probably be too tired to fix it the next morning, not that he couldn't. For some reason, neither had to say anything more to know where Ronan would then be hours from that call. The phone call had gone on all night, their goodbyes having been said but both of them seeming to _forget_ to end the call once they had. The call read 5:09:29 that following morning and Ronan's first thought was to whether his vivid dreams had passed his lips during his sleep.  
  
The phone's bill hadn't crossed his mind. He couldn't think of anything better to spend his money on, (not that he thought much about it though, of course). Neither Ronan complained about the early wake up, or Adam for having to have Ronan drive him when he had a ~~perfectly functioning~~ car of his own.  
  
When Ronan finally bust into Adam's door, (or let himself in with the key he had made without Adam's permission, but not to Adam's disapproval) Adam had been strewn across his infamously shitty mattress with the bags under his eyes pronounced and an arm digging into his pillow. It hadn't taken him the same 10 minutes it did for Ronan to get out of bed, him used to it by now, even though his night had been just as long.  
  
   Ronan pictured Adam in the same bed now. A hand buried somewhere under the covers. Sandy hair resting on his thin pillow made thicker with the tissue Adam had folded into it. Lips dry with hesitation.  
  
   "Are you tired?" Adam croaked from beside Ronan's pillow, and the sudden sprouting of sound startled him, an obvious question with an even more obvious answer.  
  
   "No." Ronan's voice came, hard with exhaustion but even more so with the lie.  
  
   "Me neither." Adam lied back.   
  
   Ronan thought back to the previous night and their ongoing call. It had been lacking somehow, the sound and movements on the other side of the call a comfort but lacking in... everything else.  
  
   Time: 01:23am.  
  
   Call: 00:52:57.  
  
   With a rasping depth that could only come from the burden of shame and regret, yet simultaneously tinged with desperation, he broke the silence once more.  
  
   "I'll be over in 30."  


* * *

  
  
   The second Adam had pressed the End Call button, his nerves seemed to tighten beneath every inch of muscle across his back, legs, chest. Hands. One of them clasped a handful of his own hair, elbow stretching over his head as his hand reached for the very back, and he looked around in the dark frantically, that panic that forced its way through his mind every time someone like Gansey or Ronan came over to his cramped and claustrophobic excuse for a home. He had thought he would have escaped the anxiety now that Ronan's appearance had become more of an expectation then a sudden visit, the space he often took on Adam's bed seeming to belong to him now. But instead, it brought an even bigger rush than when Gansey came over; with Gansey it was strictly about money, about status. With Ronan, it was somehow about something more. He wanted to be worth it.  
  
   Adam shifted to sit on his bed, landing his toes on the creaking wooden boards below. Even with his vast experience working countless shifts and hours of studying, thirty minutes had never before seemed so long. To pass the time, he showered, and when even then only ten minutes had passed, he moved on to changing the sheets.  
  
   By the time he head the car pull up, he had changed so many times that he had gone through his entire closet, not that that was a particular challenge. He stood, and then sat back down, and then stood again. He lifted his hand to squeeze at his shoulder, a firm and aggressive action, as if punishment for acting so foolish. It was Ronan. He had come over a thousand times before. Nothing had changed from when he came over the night before, or the night before that.  
  
   He hadn't suddenly become worthy. Nothing had changed.  
  
   Then why was he sweating so much?  
  
   Two minutes had gone by without any arrival, and Adam realized he hadn't heard Ronan get out of the car. That same raw inching panic began to set in, breath halting with hopes of hearing any signs of movement. Ten seconds passed, then another twenty. He pulled out his phone with the same ferocity that the shade crimson had began to spread over his cheeks, and began to type an excuse as to why Ronan shouldn't come over, knowing full well that the excuse was more for Ronan then it was for him. Seemingly minutes later, and before he could press send, he heard the slamming of a car door, and his grip on his phone tightened as he heard jingling of the bell attached to the main entrance, the creaking of wooden steps.  A key turning in his apartment's lock.  
  
    
   By the time Ronan had taken his first step into Adam's apartment, he had already come up with a hundred scenarios on how this night could go. By the second step, he had thought of an excuse for every one, convincing himself of why they were all parts of one huge bad idea. And by the third, he had decided to go to hell with every one. This left him standing a step away from Adam, the cheap lamp on his bedside table (cardboard box) hardly doing him justice, a faint light attempting to illuminate something that always seemed to be cloaked in darkness. His shoulders were broad and his arms strong, a constant reminder of how this boy before him had gone through hell just to live up to Gansey's shitty standards. A constant reminder that this boy was ten times the man that Ronan could ever be.  
  
   The words stuck in Ronan's throat, his jaw setting defensively like he was about to throw up, and his eyes hardened on Adam's, which were unflinching in anticipation. Neither of them seemed phased by the lack of words said, yet both of their stomachs were turning and twisting with longing they barely understood. Ever since Gansey first introduced the bruised, cautious and calculated boy before him, he struck Ronan as someone to match himself in his brokenness, both of their fragilities disguised by either attitude or modesty, opposites yet both of them acting as firm walls.  
  
   To Adam, in all honesty, Ronan seemed a brat. Entitled, a boy born with wealth and opportunity yet stupid and selfish enough to throw it all away in an attempt to seem like he didn't give a fuck. And handsome. So fucking handsome, Adam honestly wanted to punch him at sight for the first few weeks. It had taken a lot longer for him to see Ronan for what he truly was, who he truly was, and even then, it often surprised him how little he truly knew about the wonder that was Ronan Niall Lynch. Those same handsome features stood before him now, seeming an inch closer by the second, although none of them appeared to be moving.  
   Adam longed to know what Ronan was thinking, and Ronan longed the same about Adam. It was often they longed for each other, yet so rarely were they this close when doing so.  
  
   Adam felt something move against his hand, and looked down to see Ronan's, the skin of his fingers so close to Adam's that he felt his hair stand, a rush down his arm and back. He looked back up to see Ronan's expression the exact same, his eyes never having left from Adam's in what seemed like hours passed. Adam, however, did not have that much self control. His eyes travelled from the piercing blue gaze, a dark brown in this dim light, past his nose and cut cheekbones, down to his lips. And oh, what lips they were.  
  
   He was so close, he could almost taste him. The room seemed to shrink in Ronan's presence, though not because of his height. Every smell, every piece of furniture seemed to wrap itself around Ronan, conforming to his will. It was as if Ronan was Royalty, and when stepping into Adam's space, everything in the room bowed, humbled by his presence.  
  
   He had been staring at Ronan's lips for far too long, past the point of return. Their foreheads touched, the two of them leaning on each other for support, the only comfort being the sound of the other's hard breathing, and knowing that they were not alone in desperation. Adam felt Ronan's pelvis against his own, both of them drawing each other closer as easily as one would draw a breath, and at the feeling of Ronan's touch, his other hand against his back as he pulled him closer, the gentlest he had ever been, Adam finally let his eyes close, the feel of Ronan near him more than enough to satisfy.

**Author's Note:**

> This is completely cut off mid-scene but I wrote like three different endings and out of laziness or fear of not doing the scenes justice, I keep going back to where I cut it off and re-writing another scenario? My number one priority is making sure the characters don't seem ooc, which can be pretty difficult considering everyone has a different perspective of every character. 
> 
> Anyway, once I actually write an ending/scenario I like, I'll update it. I just wanted to post it to give me an actual motivation to finish it, omf.


End file.
